


Ginger Ale

by ArcticWolvesInLove



Category: Ginger Snaps (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love, Lycans, Wolfsbane, cherry hound, gingersnaps, implied happy ending, lycan, lycanthrope, mentions of drug use, monkshood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:16:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticWolvesInLove/pseuds/ArcticWolvesInLove
Summary: Brigitte wakes up alone, maybe Sam got what he wanted and took off, doesn't mean she'll admit Ginger was ever right about him.





	Ginger Ale

**Author's Note:**

> There is nowhere near enough fiction for this movie and it's one of my faves, after watching it again, this thing that nobody asked for, happened.

Cherry hound.

That's what Trina Sinclair had called him, but who would honestly believe the girl who felt scorn over the drug dealer who didn't call her back?

Ginger had known, she'd said it out on the field of their high school when Sam had called Brigitte to the side.

_"He wants to get in your pants, stupid!"_

How was she supposed to know her sister wasn't just feeling the side affects of transformation and lashing out? Sam had found her, six months after she'd burned Gingers body in their childhood home. He found her half conscious in a ratty motel 6 off the highway almost 15 hours from Bailey Downs. He'd been searching for her since he narrowly escaped the fire. Brigitte had cried, she hadn't cried all those months but when she realized she almost killed him, she'd cried and Sam had held her as she did.

_"I can't let you do this Brigitte," Sam had panted as he held his broken arm outside the greenhouse that night, "You both need help."_

Sam needed help too and now that it was him, he abandoned all ideals of seeking out medical attention. Brigitte had been angry with him for that for awhile, scolded him about how unfair he was but the fear in his eyes softened her resolve. Running hadn't been a solution, she'd kid herself when she thought her and Ginger could do it forever without repercussions. She and Sam struggled every single day, for food, for work, for not being caught.

Pushing closer to two years then one, she caved while Sam was dozing in their hotel room and snuck off to the public library of the next city over.

She'd found the article in no time.

Local family in mourning over the loss of their daughters who had perished Halloween night in a house fire. Pamela, the mother, had been out picking up dinner and had thought her children were at the high school Halloween dance. Henry had no comment for the news but asked to respectfully be left alone in their grief.

The one year anniversary of the Bailey Downs Halloween Tragedy had a follow up article stating that the parents had separated, the mother having left the city and the father hadn't been seen in months. Brigitte felt sick as she made her way back.

Sam was wide awake, sitting against the headboard, knees drawn up and arms resting on top of them. He hadn't looked at her when she walked in, but he spoke. "I thought you left."

"The news said two bodies were discovered," she didn't need to clarify for Sam to know exactly what she was talking about. His eyes met hers and something in her chest burned.

"Jason showed up," Sam sighed. "Or he'd been there, waiting for you and Ginger."

She wanted to ask, but she also didn't want to know what happened, it was coincidental that the investigation hadn't lead them to discover it was in fact a male body. They didn't discuss Bailey Downs again after that.

On Brigitte's nineteenth birthday Sam kissed her, she hadn't known what to do with it and she'd shoved him away and told him to go out. Her heightened senses allowed her to smell the bitter scent of cum and overly applied perfume when he'd returned to her two days later. They didn't speak, she wouldn't look at him and Sam never went out again.

Ginger still plagued Brigitte, even four years later, thankfully it was only when her and Sam had to dose up now. She'd appear, mocking and looking pointedly at the man lying next to her sister and Brigitte would roll away.

"He sure is something," Ginger would laugh. "He watches you, you know? All hungry looking, like he can't wait to taste you-"

"Shut up," Brigitte would hiss, covering her face with a pillow. Sam learned long ago not to acknowledge the way she talked to herself while the drug settled in her blood stream.

"Come on," Ginger would poke under her pillow, "How many guys dream of doing two sisters?"

Brigitte sneered and flipped away, Sam was there looking at her with something shining and needy in his eyes, all dilated and blown out from the high. She didn't want to see this but it was better then listening to Ginger's bullshit, she knew that Sam had never been with her, that he'd shoved her away.

They tried three different strands of Monkshood before one seemed to take, it sent the transformation seemingly in reverse but they had to use it every other day to stay human. They didn't look like addicts anymore though and occasionally they would settle down somewhere for a month or two and work odd jobs to build up a little cash. Sam talked about finding somewhere secluded where they could grow their own plants and food but that was a pipe dream and Brigitte didn't like to dwell on those.

On her twenty first birthday, Sam tried to get her to go out, said she deserved at least some experiences but instead they had drank a bottle of whiskey together and this time she kissed him. Nothing more serious then lips syncing and bodies writhing happened, he had touched her in a way she'd only ever known anything about through Ginger. Sam was gentle and when she had wanted to stop, he did.

Her fault really, now that she thinks about it, that all these years and his gentle touch meant something and then just months after that night when he'd kissed her and slid his hands beneath her clothes she believed it meant something. Her fault that she had thought that at least they'd stay together, that he wasn't leaving. Instead, she woke this morning, the morning after, to an empty bed, the sheets of where he lied cold and his bag missing.

She didn't cry, she wouldn't, not for him, not when it was her fault she'd given him what he'd been after and he had vanished in the night. She stayed for two days, hoping he'd return but not expecting it. He'd had the decency to leave his truck for her and she drove for thirteen hours straight to put as much distance between herself and where she'd loved him.

And she did, love him, that is.

And Ginger mocked her every second of those hours on that drive because she was alone again, and she couldn't handle being alone.

"I told you," Ginger grinned from the passenger seat. "You never listen but I told you. Guys only want one thing."

"Can it," Brigitte gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

"He's just another piece of trash, you'll get over it, I promise you."

"I'm not you."

"You're more me now then before," Ginger grinned.

"I didn't have sex because I thought it would settle some lust in my blood stream," her eyes flickered over to what she knew was an empty seat.

"Oh what, you had sex for love? Did you really think he loved you?"

"No," she said softly.

"You thought he wouldn't leave though," she had sighed into Brigitte's ear from behind her and then vanished for the next two hours.

By the next afternoon she considered giving up, considered letting the virus take over and letting whatever happened be but Ginger scolded her, told her if she wouldn't give in to be with her as a pack why would she give in for a boy who left? She doubled dose for the day and groaned in sickness after, when she came to, she decided she was staying where she was.

The motel provided her a job for her room and board, the continental breakfast they served was sometimes the only meal she had but it was okay because she had a space. On her days off she was in the public library studying up on anything Lycan, hoping she'd find something or someone who had found a cure.

Three months into her new home and he showed up, guilt was written all over his face but Brigitte barely acknowledged it before she swung and hit him in the face.

"I deserve that," Sam sighed, holding his nose and tilting his head back. "Brigitte-"

She slammed the door before turning around and dropping down to leaning back against it, she heard a soft thump and knew he had dropped his head to it.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm so sorry Brigitte and I don't deserve you to listen but please, let me explain."

She let him in and kissed him before he could speak, they slept together and shortly after she told him she was pregnant and didn't speak again after. In the morning, Sam was still there, he had breakfast from the diner up the road and a syringe filled with a cocktail of what he said was the cure.

"How do you know," she asked skeptically.

"I haven't had to use anything in months," guilt filled his features once more. "Brigitte, I-"

"I'm not pregnant," she sighed and Sam moved, dropped to his knees in front of her where she sat perched at the end of the bed.

"Why," he cut himself off, took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers for truth.

"In case you were leaving again," she looked away with her own guilt. "I figured at least if you left this time, I'd know why."

"You think I left you," he breathed and dropped his head to her knee. She tensed up, wanting to lash out, to scream about how that was exactly what he'd done but then, "Of course you did. I know how you felt when you woke up-"

"You don't," she snapped but her hand reached up and her fingers carded through his hair. He'd grown it out, down to his shoulders and it was clean, soft.

"I'd found someone, another person like us," Sam sighed as he sunk further down the more she petted him. "He'd found a cure but I didn't trust him, he called that morning and I..."

"What," Brigitte asked when he didn't continue.

"I didn't want to get your hopes up," he sat up again, gripped her hand. "I took my stuff because I didn't want him to know where you were and I figured I'd try it and either...."

His eyes were filled with that same guilt but now fear covered over that and Brigitte had the undying urge to hold him close.

"I figured I'd die if it wasn't real or I'd come back and cure you."

"You could have left a note, anything-"

"I didn't want to say goodbye," he snapped, tears finally brimming his eyes. "I didn't- Not after, I couldn't-"

"So you did leave me," she bit down on her tongue, refusing to cry from that.

"Brigitte," Sam said in a hushed tone as he shot up, grabbing onto her and pulling her close. She didn't protest so he continued, "I thought I was doing the right thing, either I'd found us a cure or I'd protected you from some asshole."

"Sam-"

"You can hate me, be mad at me, but when it comes down to protecting you, I'm gonna do it. Even if you never wanna see me again, I'll live with that, if you're safe."

Brigitte kissed him, shoved forth all she felt, all her hurt and anger and love. Sam held her close after, stroked her hair and ran tentative fingers up and down her spine.

"It took three days," Sam admits later. "Three days before I came to and when I went back to find you, you were gone."

"I waited-"

"I know," he tells her. "The guy at the front told me you'd only left the night before."

Sam pulled her in closer, kissed the top of her head and whispered into her hair, "I thought I'd lost you."

Brigitte was going to tell him how unfair he was, how he was never allowed to do that again, make decisions about her life without her consent. She would, later, but for now she listened as Sam told her she'd never wake up without him again or at least a note if he had to work or get food. He told her a lot of things and made a lot of promises and it all sounded like love to her.

The cure, whatever it was because she hadn't wanted to ask, took three days and Ginger laid beside her the whole time. When Brigitte woke from the sweat and nightmares, her sister was gone and she didn't feel her as she had all these years but Sam was there, sleeping but his arm was around her waist and he was pressed in close.

A year later found them in America, new identities and in a small rental home, they had a tiny backyard that they lined with wolfsbane and monkshood, a little vegetable garden in the middle. Sam worked under the table as a maintenance man for the company that rented them their home. Brigitte worked in a fast food restaurant three days a week and volunteered at the library on the weekends. They met one girl who had been bitten, she came in the library for a few months before Brigitte noticed what she researched and saw the familiar track marks in her arms by accident one afternoon.

She didn't survive the cure and neither of them knew why but as she had lied there dying, she swore it was okay, she was alone because she'd killed her family in the beginning, she really didn't want to live anymore, she just didn't want to turn either. Sam cried, Brigitte couldn't cry for her, she understood but Sam had felt something for her, she was only 15. Brigitte knew that when he looked at Laura he saw her all those years ago, she knew he cried because it could have been her. That night Sam took her apart slowly, kissed every inch of her skin and told her he loved her, over and over and over.

Brigitte didn't know what Sam saw for their future, they didn't have to run anymore, they didn't have to hide so if he wanted he could leave but she didn't think he wanted that. Sam told her a month later he wanted to marry her, that they had to decide on a name.

Two years later, they found themselves settled down on the East Coast, a marriage license for Brigitte and Sam Nite hung in their bedroom. Five years from then would find them with their first child, a girl whose ears were a little pointer then what would be normal and shortly after, a boy who didn't sleep on nights of the full moon.

The man who had given Sam an out of running and shooting up didn't tell him the side effects. The cure didn't in fact remove the Lycan gene but caused it to lie dormant inside its hosts and pass along their genetic code to a generation that could control it's abilities. He didn't tell Sam how he'd chased his brother across the Canadian border and lost him somewhere near a little, dreary town that had a fire tragedy just a couple months later. The man didn't tell Sam that the cure only worked in those who had a pack, those who were not alone and were willing to fight.

Sam and Brigitte lived for many long years, their children learned to shift by the time they were grown, the family having grown up on several acres of land surrounded by trees and wildlife.

Brigitte never saw Ginger again, only in her pictures that she showed her children and told them stories of the aunt they never would know. Pamela appeared one day after Brigitte and Sam's youngest son's fourteenth birthday and she stayed for a few months until she passed, she told her daughter she loved her and that she was proud that she had grown to be her own person. Pamela told her she missed Ginger too.

Sam held her as she cried that night, he told her he loved her and that no matter what brought them to this life, he was thankful.

Brigitte loved Sam, she probably would have been fine had she and Ginger grown up normal but maybe she never would have had Sam. He didn't see her before but then, he didn't have any desire to grow up and leave Bailey either so maybe it was unconventional and maybe Brigitte never knew what it was to experience a normal life but maybe that was okay and maybe this is what they were always meant for.

Their grandchildren grew up on the land they had bought, their ability to shift came early on and Brigitte finally said the word when the oldest called her an old grumpy wolf.

"I am a werewolf, you brat."

Sam laughed and laughed, the full moon at the end of that year saw Brigitte and Sam's first willing shift and by the time their grandchildren were grown, she and her husband didn't shift back.

Ginger, the youngest of their grandkids told stories to the next generation of the wolves that lived on their families land, protecting anyone who didn't willingly want this life.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in serious writers block, I'm so glad this happened!


End file.
